


Making Trifle

by Chuffed4angst



Series: Five Stars [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Draco, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Weight Gain, chubby chaser Ron, fat appreciation, squashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuffed4angst/pseuds/Chuffed4angst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron is glad Draco is past his strop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Trifle

Ron liked to hum old Beatles tunes as he cooked. Tonight he hummed Hard Days Night. He didn’t know the lyrics beyond ‘and I’ve been working like a dog’, but that was exactly why he hummed. Returning from a night’s work, he’d sent Draco up for a long bath and promised him a special treat if he were patient.

He began setting out the ingredients to make an Espresso Mousse Trifle and wanted to be finished in 40 minutes. He pulled a sheet-sized chocolate wafer out of the oven, cut it into ½ inch strips, rolled the strips into coils, and lined the bottom of bowl with loosely coiled chocolate wafers.

They’d had a lively night at the restaurant tonight. Business had been busier than ever since that dreaded review and they’d hired an additional prep cook and waiter. Draco loved working a crowded restaurant; juggling seatings, adding to their customers’ merriment. He had been at his witty, entertaining best tonight. The few times Ron had popped out of the kitchen to greet diners, Draco had been happily engaged in conversation. 

When he stopped preparing meals at 9:30 and went to chat with the regulars at the front bar, Draco had been laughing -- actually laughing -- at something one of Zabini’s half-siblings had been saying. Draco’s eyes lit up when he smiled, but his whole face changed when he laughed -- eyes crinkling with mirth, cheeks shaping into half-hearts, smile rounding away the hard edges. Better than that, Draco had been truly at ease with young Ms. not-Zabini. Wearing a perfectly tailored deep burgundy vest and shirt, he’d stood with hands in trouser pockets, shoulders and head thrown back in laughter. Not only had his relaxed posture displayed Draco’s robust girth in perfect profile, Ron had thrilled to see the wave of motion set off by his laughter. 

Closing his eyes, Ron saw it in memory: The vest fit Draco like a glove, smoothing and confining Draco’s bulges like like a convex corset. Packed tight as it was, Draco’s whole vest had jogged with the hearty mirth, loosening his neatly tucked shirt and allowing Ron a peak of the soft bulge above his belt as it came to a jostling, rolling stop. 

Ron whipped up a dark chocolate espresso custard and poured it, still warm, over the base layer of spiraled wafers.

Well, not quite stop, Ron reflected. Once Draco’s vest rode up that little bit and shirt fabric pulled from its perfect tuck, the escaping bulge of soft flesh jiggled gently as Draco gestured. Ron had stood watching fondly for the minute or so before Draco thought to re-tuck.

Few visual turn-ons rated higher than that in Ron’s book and he had been hard pressed not to molest Draco then and there. He held himself back for “dignity’s sake and paranoia of hidden cameras” as they’d all done since the war. He’d put the visual and all of his urges into his private “To Do To Draco” list and saved it for home.

He pulled homemade chocolate caramels and marshmallows from the cupboard, which softened as he layered them atop the warm custard.

Ron had been particularly pleased to see Draco’s laughter tonight considering the frigid wave of fury and second thoughts that had assailed his lover after Romilda Vane’s tactless personal comment in her otherwise glowing review.

Ron really hadn’t seen Draco in such a strop since before they’d been a couple, and that was going on eight years now. It took a few weeks, actually. But eventually Draco embraced the truth of Vane’s “merry leprechaun with chubby cheeks and a belly to match” remark. 

That was the thing about Draco, Ron thought fondly. When he embraced a viewpoint, he did it with body and soul. They’d been spooning before sleep last Saturday night, riding the exhausted high after a particularly busy Friday and Saturday. Completely relaxed in Ron’s arms, Draco had admitted, "I'm not quite sure why I was so very offended.”

Ron had laughed, “It was Romilda Vane, luv. Everything about her is offensive.”

“Cheers,” Draco had agreed. “Even so, she just wrote what you and I have known for years: I'm happy. You make me happy, Ron Weasley -- you and Bienfaisant and the life we've built together. Funny. Thing how often I sneered at people who wore their emotions on their sleeves. I think, I think I never knew how to express mine," he said sheepishly, pressing his soft warm body against Ron and kissing him. "Apparently -- obviously -- now I wear my emotions around my middle."

Gently, possessively, Ron stroked his hand around the soft globe in question. “Mm-hm,” he had agreed, kissing back. He fondled Draco’s rump, then his love handle. "Proud to say, I helped you put it there." 

“You did,” Draco had grinned. Draco had rolled Ron onto his back, reached over and demanded, “Give us a hand, will you?”

Ron had given a mighty yank, helping Draco to lever himself atop of Ron. Once up, Draco straddled his hips, belly falling on stomach, arms braced over the shoulders. Oh! Ron had been delighted. He loved to have Draco on top of him.

Ron whipped chocolate flakes into the mocha mousse to add that little extra bit of flavor to the next layer of Draco’s prize.

When Draco had first begun gaining, Ron had decided that there was absolutely no better way to worship Draco’s stuffed bulging belly than to have him braced above Ron and let it relax and fall as far is it would. At first Draco had felt self-conscious about it, tried to hold his stomach in and felt sick propped up like that. He’d been unable to relax his muscles until Ron had reassured him. When Draco finally did let go and relax, he’d moaned in wonder at the freedom of it. Underneath and positioned upside down, Ron had provided Draco’s reward. He had cupped his broad hands under Draco’s smooth round belly, soothing and kneading its growing bulk, and letting Draco’s ready cock fuck his mouth. Fucking heaven, that was. Made Ron’s mouth water just thinking on it. 

They’d played that game and variations as they’d gone on. There had been something magic about it when Draco’s belly finally touched Ron’s as it hung down -- and then, pressed down with more and more weight! Ron had become more and more addicted as Draco had grown, as more weight pressed down. Even better, when Ron relaxed his own muscles, Draco’s weight could make it hard to breathe. Ron loved letting the breathless dizziness drag his pleasure into its intense dark tunnel. It was so many things -- the pleasure and accomplishment of feeding, the tactile fleshiness, the weight, the closeness. The bigger Draco got, the more Ron loved having him on top of him. 

Ron smoothed on a thin layer of raspberry jelly, knowing how the slick tart contrast would enhance the whole. 

Amazing as it was for Ron to be buried beneath Draco, hefting himself up was getting hard on Draco and had been happening less frequently. As Draco had neared his current weight, crawling over their soft bed had become too much like wading in quicksand and holding his weight up was too exhausting for Draco. It was partly because Draco wouldn’t full-out squash Ron, but that was something they were working on. It was also partly because Draco had never been terribly muscular upper body, and maybe that was another thing to think about.

Any road, Draco had hauled himself up top and Ron had been delighted. Straddling him, Draco had let most of the weight of his belly rest on Ron's stomach. Then, arching his back and twisting his hips, he’d rubbed--squashed with sticky, sweaty, friction--his pliant flesh in slow, heavy circles that rocked Ron's whole body. 

"Nhyeh," Ron’d said, short and breathy from the pressure on his lungs. His grabby hands chased along the sandwich space between them, grasping the biggest bulges as they moved. 

Draco had been too breathless from exertion to do more than grunt. He’d sped up his hips, shifted his thick fleshy stomach further down to rub Ron's risen cock; canted his surprisingly flexible hips harder so that his own erect cock --his one perfectly fit and muscled appendage -- reached past his thick squashed belly to make hot, mind blowing, cock to cock contact. 

Wanting that, Ron had pushed past the lack of air that was making him weak. He’d braced his feet under himself, lifted his own hips against his lover's weight and his cock to its mate. Can cocks have soul mates? he’d wondered. He’d captured their mates with greedy, sweaty hands and pulled loving, double-fisted, pre-come slick pleasure. Pleasure multiplied, encased under the already heavy, undulating, undeniable pleasure of Draco's body; fast and flopping and slapping, Draco's belly rolled and skidded against their cock heads. Heady from lack of oxygen, Ron had tightened his grip. Draco’d spread his knees further and jerked his hips viciously and the heat and weight and contact was all too much. Draco's cock had felt the tight pulsing of Ron's orgasm as if it were his own and he’d come and they’d come together. Massive and intense and connected and so long that it had been too much all over again and Ron’d finally blacked out in ecstasy. Sated, exhausted, unaccustomed to this effort, Draco had managed to roll to the side. Still plastered against Ron, Draco had been half on top but not squashing him as they slept.

Ron looked down at the neglected pudding. What was next? Cream, he thought, adding sugar and starting to whip. Just the whipped cream.

**Author's Note:**

> Not finished. Obviously. I was just too eager to post. Thoughts?


End file.
